


A Winter's Ball

by venenated



Series: Someone Under Stress/Someone Looking Pretty [2]
Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Abuse, Abusive Relationships, Adultery, And Lots of It, Cheating, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Married Characters, POV Alternating, Physical Abuse, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-10-28 12:48:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10831605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venenated/pseuds/venenated
Summary: Alex and Maria meet again. Predominantly in Maria's POV, with some of Alex and a little Eliza.Tags will be added, make sure to read them and know this isn't the happiest of stories.





	1. Chapter 1

It's been weeks since their encounter, not that Maria would care to admit she’s been counting. She’d known she wasn’t going to see him again – he’s the fucking Treasury Secretary. That didn’t mean she hadn’t wished she could. But there’s a job her friend has for her. Aside from her work at a coffee shop and cleaning offices at night, she’d often take up catering jobs. She knows what accepting this particular event would mean. He could be there. It’s a dinner and dance for the newly formed government. She doesn’t even know if it’s him she’s thinking about every day. Maybe she’s just obsessed with the affection, the actual love she felt from him. She scolds herself when she thinks like that. Not love, just a one night stand. It reminded her of when James would treat her, buying her flowers, walking and just simply talking. God, even just eating her out. He certainly doesn’t do that anymore.

She put off asking James about it. He clearly hasn’t seen any change in her, but she knows she can find it difficult to lie. But eventually he comes home and isn’t drunk, doesn’t seem to be in a foul mood, and she can posit it to him. He’s constantly after money, but he hates her having any of her own. Maria doesn’t get how his mind works, but she’s learning how to tread around him, careful not to set him off.

“James, would it be okay if I did a job tomorrow evening? It’s only a few hours, a dinner. I’d only be on the bar or quickly doing dinner service.” He scowls, and she bites her lip, “we could put it towards a new AC, or just the bills. I could get quite a bit.”

His frown fades, and he thinks about what he can do with the extra money. Relenting, he gives a brief smile, and says, “of course, we need the money. And it would be good if you could finally help out.”

She feels the punch of the gut only an insult can give, and her face heats up, her cheeks flushing. “I- I really try, James, I’ve got the two jobs…”

His face returns to its steely exterior, and he gets up from his place on the couch, towering above her petite frame. “No, you’re right, I’m sorry James, I need to get some more hours.”

“Too right you fucking do, you waste your money on cigarettes and makeup, do you even give a shit about our marriage?!” He’s gripping her arms, squeezing too tightly, making the room grow smaller and her breathing quieter and she wants to get away, why did she protest, why does she do this to herself?

“James, I’m sorry, you’re right, I’ll ask, I’ll stop buying cigarettes,” she’s speaking without taking breaths in between, she’ll say whatever she can to get him to stop, to calm him down. Tears fill her eyes, but he releases his grip, and slumps back on the couch.

“Actually keep buying the makeup, God knows you need it. Take the job. Get as many tips as you can.” He resumes watching the TV, and ignores her the rest of the night. She’s thankful, it wasn’t a bad night but it certainly wasn’t a good one.

She texts back, asking for the dress code. Moving to their closet, she pulls her tight black skirt that she knows works well with tips. She lays it out alongside a pair of tights, black pumps and her crisp white shirt. It’s a little too small for her, and it stretches at the bust. Thinking for a second, she pulls out a white camisole to wear under. If James sees her before she catches the bus to the city without it, she knows there’ll be a price to pay.

Maria jumps in the shower before bed, being quick enough not to anger James more. She shaves, everywhere, washing her hair twice, trying to get the best out of her fluffy curls. Wrapping a towel around herself she pads back into the bedroom, the growing excitement fluttering in her belly. Humming to herself, she knows she needs to calm down, but just seeing a part of his world will be exciting. He won’t even remember her, she knows it. He probably does it a lot, have sex with woman other than his wife.

Her teeth graze over her bottom lip, and that excitement starts to plummet. Realizing she’s just some random, one of a long list, Maria looks from the bed to her clothing, and knows this won’t end well. Alex, the bloody Treasury Secretary, will take two glasses from her platter, give one to his darling wife, and turn his back on her. No eyelid battered, no quick curl of the lip. He won’t recognize her. Sighing, she slips into a jumper and pyjama bottoms. If he doesn’t know her, that’ll mean it is actually over, something she keeps reminding herself. _Needs_ to keep reminding herself.

Her mind continually wanders, making up stories of herself and this man, him rescuing her, the damsel in distress. Most of the time they end up with passionate sex, but hey, a girl can want what she wants. She’s lying to herself, pretending that she’s okay with it being over. Not that it really ever began.

The bed creaks as she lays down, pulling the covers up to her nose. Closing her eyes, she starts to drift off again, accompanied by more scenarios of her and Hamilton. Running away together, happy. She’s an idiot. How is she so obsessed over someone who she barely knows, who’s married, has two kids, has one of the most important careers in America. She just wants freedom from this life, and he made her feel important, wanted, loved. Maria has no wish to be a damsel in distress, but she is, she so is, she doesn’t know how to get out and she just wants him to take her away. Eventually, Maria drifts into sleep, with a mixture of worry and anticipation about what tomorrow will bring.


	2. Chapter 2

The guy running service is kind of a creep, Maria has already realised. They’ve been plating up the canapés, which she and numerous other servers are going to be offering to guests. Then it’s just a simple case of waitressing the appetiser, main meal and desserts. Joseph, _the_ _main man_ , as he has called himself three times already, lined up the waiters and chose the four most attractive to be holding platters of champagne for when government officials, big and small, enter the grand hotel. She has been chosen for one of these roles, and in a mixture of disgust and pleasure she accepts. Joseph is way too touchy and it’s made her twitchy, he patted, well more or less rubbed her back for far too long when he chose her. But hey, it means the skirt is working and that she looks good tonight.

The servers have been lectured not to talk and discuss politics between themselves or, God forbid, with the actual politicians. She’s met a guy who seems nice, and he chats to her about his day whilst they pour the champagne. She’s hardly allowed a word in, but it’s nice to just be able to stay quiet without the fear of what will come out of his mouth next.

Soon it’s time for the people to arrive and so Maria is standing tall, smiling and greeting guests as they walk up the grand stairs into the hotel. She hates serving drinks, constantly afraid that they’ll fall and shatter. Especially when the champagne is worth more than her pay check. The president, George Washington, has already entered, alongside his Secretary of State. Whilst politics is not of particular interest to Maria, she has certainly brushed up in the last few weeks. It seems almost celebrity, with press swarming the sidewalk. The new government came into power after the war with England, and it’s being constantly reported on ever since. That’s where she’d recognized Alex from, the brief moments the news is on the TV. He’s constantly talking, enthused about his work, trying to do something or rather with the nation’s money. She doesn’t pretend to understand. Regardless of her lack of knowledge, it’s still thrilling, like there’s sparks of energy in the air. It’s partly due to the tensions between representatives, Maria sees chagrined handshakes and well wishes all around. Despite the fact, it’s still nothing but exciting, if a touch of nerve wracking.

Then she sees him. Her skin alights in goose-bumps, and her breathing slows. Alexander Hamilton, right there. He seems so at ease in front of the spotlight, he’s schmoozing and shaking hands left and right. Finally Maria manages to drag her eyes away from him, and she sees his wife. She’s more stunning in person than in the pictures. A deep emerald green dress practically flows over her, and she too seems to take everything in her stride, not fussing over anyone or anything. The flashes of cameras, the fussing of the hosts. Christ, they’re stunning. His small hand is holding her by the waist, smiling joyfully to his wife, and in return her happiness is radiating. His eyes move across, the crowd, and she watches, hopeful, before his deep brown eyes meet hers, and his smile drops.

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander watches Eliza slip into the fifth dress she’s tried on tonight. He can’t separate them anymore; the colour barely variates and texture stays the same. Sighing, his fingers make quick work of his bow tie, then brushing his hair back into a tight ponytail.

“What about this one?” Eliza is eyeing herself in the mirror, turning to look at each angle, looking for any flaw.

“Gorgeous, like the first four,” Alex rolls his eyes, sitting down on the bed, and leaning on one of the thousand pillows they have. He checks his watch, again. The babysitter has been here for an hour already, the time they were meant to have left.

“Alexander, this is important! I need to look good.”

“Which you do, my love.”

Alex has been planning this night for the last few weeks. A way to talk to the politicians that have been preventing his bill from passing. Maybe even with a few drinks, he can finally convince Jefferson to drop his issues. But that wish is far from happening. Briefly closing his eyes from the bedroom, Alex starts to write what he’ll say to each Congressmen in his head. He notes any hobbies or achievements they have, he’ll need to keep conversation going, and all politicians love compliments.

“Alexander?”

His eyes shoot open, and apologising, he sits back up to look at his wife. She’s struggling to reach the zip of her dress, and he pushes himself of the bed. Standing behind her, he rests his hands on her hips. Kissing the back of her neck, “I’m not helping you get out this dress. It’s beautiful, and so are you. We need to go.”

Eliza relents. She checks herself again. He’s right. Yoga and spinning has made her lean body stronger, and the fabric practically flows over her. The two walk downstairs, give the babysitter brief instructions, kiss the children goodbye, and get in the car.

The conversation is sparse. Eliza knows that Alex is thinking about the evening. It’s been top priority for a few weeks. He’s certainly making plans of who to talk to, everyone will be getting an allotted time in Alexander’s head, judged on their importance. She places her delicate hand on his thigh, squeezing. He looks at her, briefly smiling. They have a comfortable rhythm between them. She knows when he’s not truly there. Alex in return knows how to treat her, he supports her whenever she needs it, and is proud of her in every way. They know each other. Eliza is far less complex than he is, and she knows it. She loves endlessly, and forgives easily. That’s not a bad thing. Alex, whilst he too loves her, loves his work far more. She’s learnt to accept it, and she’s happy being second best in these events. Once he’s succeeded in his latest vision, she’ll be there for him, and Eliza will be his number one concern. They’ve learnt to go through this back and forth with minimal fuss, and it’s made them stronger.

Alex rushes around the car to open her door, and gives her a hand. He turns on the charm in these events. She smiles widely, and he returns it. There are cameras everywhere, and Eliza only wants to come across as a power couple. They turn in tandem, his hand on her waist, her laughing at jokes and whispers. She knows they look stunning. Eliza made the right decision with this dress. It flatters her in all the right places.

Alex beams at his wife, she knows how to work these events and she does it wonderfully. He starts talking to Congressmen after their brief photoshoot, shaking hands and telling jokes. He introduces Eliza proudly, telling of her most recent charity work. Starting to scan the entrance for Washington, he quickly questions a Senator as to his whereabouts. George is early, of course, and already in the hotel. Turning to his wife, Alex asks, “a drink, my love?”. Eliza has started to gather her dress to move up the stairs. She nods, and he goes to retrieve the champagne. They’ll be ready and waiting by the time she’s beside him. Looking for the servers, he sees a couple of women standing together. He focuses, and makes his way towards them.

Then he sees her. _What the fuck?_ Why is _she_ here? Not that he simply was after a one-night stand when he met Maria, but the opportunity presented itself and he took it. But here? It’s worlds colliding. He’s thought of her most days since their encounter. As well as that fucking bruise. He’s chewing the inside of his lip, and has hesitated. Eliza has joined him at the top of the stairs, and waits patiently by his side, before asking what’s wrong. Alex is prompted back in reality, and heads towards her. Maria looks like something else. Compared to the women here she’s dressed simply, but somehow it works beautifully. Probably a uniform kink showing through. Her skirt is tight, and her shirt even more so. Eyeing her as they move closer, she looks nervous, and he picks two glasses up. Alex thanks her, cocks his head, and moves inside. He’ll talk to her later. He’s sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmm im not sure about this one. hopefully you like? i feel like i rambled and maybe its unclear. hopefully not! thanks for reading!!

Her mind runs slowly during service, she’s groggy and unfulfilled in these types of jobs. But time runs quickly, and it’s worth it for the extra money. The evening began with a dance, and will end with one, but for now all her agenda yields is serving dessert. Three miniature puddings sit on china, a chocolate tarte, lemon soufflé, and strawberry pavlova, with raspberry coulis. It makes her sweet tooth sting, and she wishes she could eat the food the guests have been cooked tonight. Despite the treats she’d rather be eating, of course her mind wanders to Alexander. Her table is two or so away from his. She spots him eyeing her a few times. Did he recognize her? He must have. He quite literally stopped in his tracks.

She wasn’t experienced or pretty enough, Joseph has made sure to note, to wait on the table filled with the cabinet. Even if someone truly hated talk of politics, it’s still pretty exciting to actually see the President. Washington is next to Alex, they seem in constant discussion, with their wives making small talk. Jefferson, she’s pretty sure the Secretary of State, is constantly looking annoyed and rolling his eyes towards another man. He certainly doesn’t look too happy at Washington and Hamilton’s closeness. The girl serving them is cute, probably better looking than her, but Alex doesn’t even blink. Of course he’s polite, thanking anyone who tops his glass or lays a plate. But his eyes only flash from the President’s to her own.

Concentrating on her own duties for the last few minutes, she hasn’t noticed Alex’s disappearance. Thanked by all the table, Maria nods her exit, leaving them to their puddings. As she leaves the grand hall, she makes sure to glance once again at the finest table. His seat is empty, but his wife is still there. Adrenaline and excitement mix in Maria’s stomach. That swirling, sudden feeling in her stomach surges. She’s not sure if she’s going to be sick or smile till her skin cracks. Pausing, she settles herself. He’s gone to the bathroom, or to talk to another politician. Leaving the hall, Maria looks down, pulling a curl behind her ear, her mind once again in a day dream, finally pulled from the fog of work.

A cough in the hallway that leads to the kitchens startles her, and she starts to move to the side, expecting another server with a tray of plates in front of her. Instead she’s greeted with a ponytail, and a sheepish smile. Her first instinct is to bow her head, to rush away. She’s had all these daydreams and now she wants nothing more than to run, worried about whatever may be coming.

“Maria…” his voice cracks, as if under enormous pressure, “what are you doing here?”

That she quite simply doesn’t know how to answer. Does she explain the hope of seeing him again, the wondering of her mind tempting her to come this evening? She stays quiet, as servers pass them in the hallway. The bubble that has formed around the two pops, as Joseph once again rushes past, stopping only to grasp Maria’s shoulders, “why aren’t you out there?” he demands. Alex once again coughs politely, and Joseph immediately relents, a tint of pink coming to his cheeks. “I apologise, Sir. I did not see you there, just her table has empty glasses.”

“Just a moment of her time,” Alex speaks as if he’s asking a question yet uttering a demand at the same time. He has such a kind voice it’s a wonder how he can’t persuade the cabinet with his debt plan.

“Of course, Sir.” He quickly steps to the side, eyeing Maria cautiously. She’s curious as to why he didn’t make up an excuse about the wine, or the meal.

The smile that plays upon his lips is small, and she returns it easily. He ushers her down the hall, away from prying eyes, and opens a door to a smaller convention room. It’s similar in its grandness. A piano sits to the side, with the same dance floor and large round tables. You can still hear the music from the event in the other room, a constant beat that can make way for conversation easily.

“So,” Alex begins cautiously, before leaning on the question again, “what _are_ you doing here?”

“I- uh, my friend knew I needed some extra work, and so she messaged me, and I said yes,” she’s stumbling over her words, still reeling from the shock of speaking to Alex again. “I promise, I’m not following you around or anything.” She can feel the flush on her cheeks, but still prays he can’t see. The adrenaline in her stomach is still swirling, and she doesn’t know if she feels happy or sick. She should have known that this was simply a one-night stand, a fling. Why did she say yes?

“I’m glad you’re here Maria. I’ve been – I suppose I’ve been concerned.” He’s been more than that. Over the past few weeks there has been a cloud of guilt surrounding him. That bruise, that _fucking bruise._ Her marriage troubles him, and it’s been playing at the back of his mind in-between all the worries of government.

The warmth on her cheeks deepens, “concerned?” A sense of alarm runs through her. He could have forgotten about her easily. Added her to a long list, or simply just seen her as some object. Why was he worried?

“Maria, I, I don’t know how I can say this politely,” he doesn’t seem quite like the Alex she’d met a few weeks ago. His relaxed posterior in jeans and a shirt is so masked with a hardened façade. His suit is sharp and crisp. The aged lines of his face seem deeper somehow. Maria’s lips are parted, but no thoughts can escape. Her throat seems tight, and her eyebrows furrow further with every word. “After… After we had sex, there was, was a bruise on your back. As well as that, you’d expressed that your marriage wasn’t going well, and that your husband was, well, he would get angry. If I’ve speculated too far, I’m sorry Maria, but I’ve thought of it every day, and the fact you’re here seems like a good enough reason for me to ask. I need to know.”

The once well-spoken man is stumbling over his address to her. It’s like he’s written this out, similar to a speech, but he never quite got the time to rehearse. Maria’s eyes fill with tears, she steps back, falling a little into the chair behind her. She holds onto it for support, knuckles paling. He whispers her name, reaching out. Flinching a little, the tears spill over, a few trailing down her cheeks. Idiot Maria, absolute fucking idiot.

“I know what it seemed like, it was bad that day. I know that’s not good, but it’s not something that happens often. It was a mistake. He didn’t mean to.” She’s tripping over her tongue, barely managing to communicate her thoughts. She’s making excuses before they’re fully thought out, speaking before she’s got a plan.

She can see Alex is appalled. She understands. Her thoughts the first time he hit her are the first he’s thinking now: How could a man do that? Or anyone, for that matter.

“Maria, I can’t let you go back there. That’s not right, he shouldn’t be allowed to do that.”

“Alex, you don’t know me, or my life.” Her tears have made way for a steely exterior. Despite her knowledge of James’ wrongdoings, it’s her childhood sweetheart. As little as she’d like to admit, she does love him. Or at least, she loves who he used to be. “You cannot dictate what I do.”

Alex is torn. It’s true, he has no control over her. He barely knows her, or her situation. But how can he let this go? A woman is crying in front of him, clearly hurt. Maybe it’s his history that has led him to grow into thinking this way. He needs to help anyone he can, and prove himself to all. He moves closer, his gentle, calloused hands encasing her. They slide from her elbows and move around, pulling her body close to his. Maria is tense, but she’s shaking, attempting to hide her true emotions. He feels helpless until she relaxes, and she starts apologising, again and again. He shakes his head into her vanilla scented curls, holding her until she’s quiet.

Eventually Maria steps back, all puffy red eyes and blotchy cheeks. She is beautiful. Maria asks, “do you have time to sit down?” Alex nods immediately, pulling out a seat for the woman before him. He joins her, his face still full of concern. They sit together in the empty room, accompanied by the uptake in tempo from the adjoining hall. Alex notes that the dancing has begun again, and Maria smiles faintly, her mind a mixture of worry and concern.

Soon, without too much prompting, Maria can explain her situation. Alex grits his teeth, scowls, rubs his temples, balls his fists till his knuckles are white. He can’t control this situation, and he hates every part of it. Maria does not divulge everything, only what he needs to know. She provides excuses for James’s behaviour. Money problems mixed with alcohol encourages his anger, and she’s the only way he can get it out. Usually it’s not that bad. The day before Alex had met Maria, James had pushed her. He didn’t mean her to be so hurt, she hoped at least, and had apologised. She thinks she’s safe most the time. Marriage isn’t quite what she expected. There’s more arguments, more problems. But she feels okay, most of the time. Her explanation is filled with apologies. Maria didn’t mean for Alex to worry, and she’s sure she’s okay. “Honestly Alex. I’m okay. I don’t want to leave James. He’s all I’ve got.” It’s true. No family, no real friends.

Alex is fair, he will hear Maria out before any judgement. But once she finishes, Alex can’t withhold his thoughts.

“Maria, no. A man who loves you shouldn’t do that – a man who doesn’t shouldn’t! He shouldn’t be able to push, or touch you, without it coming from a place of love and devotion. Maybe that’s optimistic, or idealistic, but so be it. You should be treated like the love of his life, as I’m sure you treat him. If he doesn’t look forward to seeing you, or being with you, kissing you, loving you, he doesn’t deserve you. I’m sorry, truly, I don’t want what we had to just become me breaking up your marriage – you’ve probably barely thought of me. I just need to know you are okay.”

“I am. I – I have to be.”

Maria gets up. She doesn’t know what to say or how to say it. Pulling her skirt down, and pulling her hair behind her ears she tucks the chair back in its place. She’s finally been caught in her charade of happiness, and now with her vulnerabilities out, she wants nothing more than to run away. Alex quickly stumbles over himself to catch up with her.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, Maria, I’m sorry.” The casual, chivalrous man she met a month ago seems to have disappeared, a steely and well worded gentleman replacing him.

“You couldn’t Alex, I’m just scared.” Her voice trails away, her eyes to the floor.

“Can I do anything to help you? You said you needed money, can I give you any? Or a place to stay?” He is far too kind, offering far too much to a girl who deserves far more.

She grins sheepishly, giddy at his offers, but of course declining them.

“At least a number then? You can text, or call, in case you ever need someone.”

The thought of James checking her phone and seeing his number terrifies her, but the thought of being stranded with him is even worse. She gets out her phone, passing it to Alex who quickly types in his details. He returns it, and as she pockets the device he steps in, taking her chin in his hand and pressing a delicate kiss on her lips. The two part, both smiling.

“I’ll message you, if need be.” There is an awkward tension in the air, but they both know that all that could be said has been.

Leaving the convention room, Maria walks one way, Alex another, neither say goodbye, but leave one another a look to live with until they meet again.

Alex returns to his ever so patient wife. Eliza sits stoically, watching the others dance and glee. He kisses her cheek, taking her hand to dance. “I’m sorry my love, business of course.”

“It always is,” Eliza smiles widely, her features oh so delicate. Her raven hair flows as they turn, and Alex is enchanted by her. She’s perfection, not a flaw to be seen. In comparison, he’s always slightly ruffled around the edges. Her dark eyes spot a curl on the lapel of his jacket, her manicured nails pick it off. A thought races through her mind, but she puts it to the side. It could be anyone, of course, and Eliza knows she’s magnificent. The two dance until the night ends, only stopping when Eliza complains her feet are tired, and that the babysitter should be relieved. Alex spots Maria in the midst of cleaning, and gives a quick nod to her, before he takes his wife’s hand and the two walk into the cold sharp air of New York.

Maria doesn’t return home for two hours after that, and comes home to an empty bed. She’s happy, it allows her to think about the evening. Once again, she drifts off to thoughts of Alexander, imagining herself in Eliza’s dress, stunning everyone in the room. Maria is alone in the dark, happy in her world of fantasy. Dressing up, playing politics. She’s disturbed by the door, and James falling over with a curse. Her eyes squeeze shut, praying he sleeps on the couch. Light drenches the room as he enters, and his breath is wet and thick against her neck. His hands are everywhere, and her thoughts have to be anywhere else. The night ends with her thoughts tainted, falling asleep with her drunken husband beside her.


End file.
